


markaðr

by aquarium_seeds



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Jane Foster, BAMF Jane Foster, F/M, Slice of Life, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23923231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquarium_seeds/pseuds/aquarium_seeds
Summary: Thor teaches Jane the art of bartering, and Jane teaches a vendor a lesson...
Relationships: Jane Foster/Thor
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	markaðr

“I warn you, I’m no good at bargaining,” said Jane again. Their horse-pulled cart rattled smoothly down the road, passing a patchwork of orchards and farms. They had left the main city behind to travel to a market. The day was cool, though the Asgardian sun was high in the sky.

“I shall teach you!” enthused Thor. “And through my tutelage you shall succeed. Have no fear, Jane,” he leaned into her side. “I am considered quite skilled.” 

Jane laughed and elbowed him. “At this and everything else,” she said. 

Thor smirked. “I admit, I am most talented.” Jane laughed and slapped at his knee. 

“So teach me then, oh wise one.”

“There are but a few guidelines that dictate the common rules of bartering. One: never accept the first offer. Two: be prepared to leave behind your desired object. If you cannot get a reasonable price, you must steel yourself to abandon it rather than overpay. Three:” and here he grinned, “charm is everything!”

“You have that in spades,” Jane said. 

“In spades?”

“Uh, a lot of it. You have… an abundance.”

“That is true,” demurred Thor, casting his eyes downward in a ridiculous display of false humility. His eyes snapped up and sparkled at Jane’s laugh. 

“Don’t you get a bargain just because you’re a prince?” she asked. “I mean, aren’t the people going to try and get on your good side by giving you things for less?”

“No,” Thor chuckled, “quite the reverse. The people are well aware of the wealth of my family. They often ask outrageous prices because they know I can pay. Often I have to barter my way back down to a reasonable price before I can really begin to wheedle.”

“Ah,” said Jane. “That makes me feel better, actually.” A monarchy and it’s wealth was odd to Jane, and even more odd that she now shared in that affluence. 

“They likely will not do the same to you,” Thor reassured. “They know you are not from here, and also,” he leaned to whisper in her ear: “I think they like you more than they do me.” He withdrew with a grin. Jane smiled, fidgeting a little. The respect and deference the Asgardians paid her humbled and thrilled her. She was so used to being beaten down, ridiculed, and rejected from her time before her scientific work was proven, that it still awed her that people she barely knew could care so deeply for her. 

“And remind me again, how your currency works?” she asked.

“Ah yes, our currency operates in this manner:” he paused for dramatic effect. “You give the determined price to the seller, and in return, they give you what you paid for.”

“I know that!” complained Jane, amused. “That’s how all currency works. I mean, your weird coins. Don’t you only have one type of money?”

“Yes,” said Thor, “But you don’t have to worry too much about that. I think you’ll find it simpler than your Earth money.”

Asgardian currency was odd, as it had no denominations less than one unit of currency— they had no change. Each coin was exactly alike, with only an embossed number to designate worth, starting at 1 increasing by 25 up to 200. Because of this, the currency rarely was called by name (and in fact, Jane had forgotten what it was called). Rather, things were bought and sold by numbers with no title like ‘dollar’ or ‘penny.’

On Earth, penny candy dispensaries confused Thor greatly, as he assumed that if they cost less than the smallest bill amount, they must be disgusting and poorly made. (It wasn’t until Jane had popped a bubblegum from a gumball machine into his mouth that he promptly changed his mind and liked cent candies very much.)

Jane could never satisfactorily explain to him why small change was useful, but had tried to extol the virtues of having smaller currency denominations. 

_“What about small things?”_ she had persisted. _“You wouldn’t want to pay a whole dollar for a licorice stick.”_

 _“I would,”_ he had disagreed, _“if the licorice were worth a dollar. Why should I purchase something worth less than the smallest amount of your money?”_

 _“Well, the actual smallest amount is a penny,”_ said Jane. _“There’s a hundred of those to one dollar.”_

 _“Ach!”_ Thor had thrown up his hands. _“Too complicated. Truly Asgard is farther advanced than Earth in this.”_

Jane had elbowed him and swore she would never share her licorice.

\---  
  


Their journey had been filled with laughter and conversation, with a brief stop in the middle at a fountain square where they had a small meal. Now, she could see the hills of their destination.

The market was nestled in a valley surrounded by hills, with roads leading between the hills and curving out of sight behind. It was not until Thor directed the cart around the gentle slope that she finally got her first look.

It was a large plaza, the entirety of the small valley basin flattened and covered over in level cobblestones. At regular intervals stood colorful tents, merry banners snapping in the wind at their peaks. Several performers, some stationary and other roaming, filled the space between the tents. Children laughed and ran in the center, where it seemed several games and attendants had been set up specifically for the purpose of child watching. People of all stations and dress walked, bartered, and called out the benefits of their wares. The colors and smells were overwhelming.

“It’s wonderful!” said Jane, bouncing a little in her seat. “Look over there! And what’s that? Oh, wow!” she tucked a hand in Thor’s elbow and cuddled close, grinning from ear to ear. 

Thor laughed, loud and large. “I am glad you approve!” he said. “I have wanted to show you this for some time. Come, come, we shall go!” He jumped from the cart, then put out his arms to assist Jane down. 

“What about the cart?” she asked once she alighted on the ground, turning in Thor’s arms to look back at it as he began walking towards the market. 

“The attendant will take care of it,” he assured, taking her hand and steering her deeper into the crowd. He was excited like a boy, beaming at everyone and everything. Jane looked around, delighted.

“Here, here, see!” said Thor, tugging on her hand and pointing with their interlaced hands at the stall nearest them. “Here is Agvaldr, master of weapons craft! Ho, Agvaldr!”

Agvaldr was a red-haired barrel-chested bear of a man, huge and broad-shouldered. His red hair was cropped close to his skull and stuck up in messy spikes. He was clean shaven, which was not often seen on men of Asgard. He was surrounded by every weapon imaginable, gleaming on several tables surrounding him, piled with no discernable order.

Agvaldr looked up at Thor’s loud salutation. He dropped a knife he had been sharpening to a table near him with a loud _clang_. 

“THOR!” he yelled, standing and spreading his arms wide. Thor bounded into them and they embraced, with much back-pounding and loud laughter. Jane jumped at the noise and kept a healthy distance from the man. Violent First Contact had left her jumpy at unexpected noises and fast movements. Thor stepped back from the man, covering Jane’s shoulder with a massive arm. 

“This is my beloved, Jane,” he boasted, drawing her near him and looking down with fondness. 

“Hello!” said Jane with a little wave.

Agvaldr consciously lowered his voice and calmed his demeanor. “My lady! I am honored! All have wondered at the woman who repaired our Bifröst. My brother was stranded on another planet when the Bifröst was destroyed. Now it has been repaired, we are rejoined. You have my deepest thanks.” He bowed at the waist deeply, a fist over his chest in the Asgardian salute. 

“It is my pleasure to serve,” she responded in the expected manner. Then added, “I am happy that you and your brother are reunited.”

Agvaldr beamed at her and turned back to Thor. “What are you seeking, this fine day? Have you come for more weapons?” He hefted the knife he had dropped previously and gestured with it at the glittering metal around him.

“We are here to barter,” said Thor with a significant wink. “On Earth it seems they have abandoned barter except for certain venues.”

“It is a skill most valuable!” agreed Agvaldr. “If they do not give you a fair price, my lady, you tell them that old Agvaldr will see to it they learn their manners!” He and Thor laughed merrily. They bid their goodbyes and Thor led her back into the bustle of the main plaza. 

“Pick a stall, and find something that interests you. I shall barter for it and you can see how it is done.” 

Jane looked around, her eye catching on the most colorful tent. It was patchworked in dozens of different patterns and colors, sewn together at random. “There,” she said. “That stall looks promising.”

They made their way to it, and were nearly run over by several children while crossing the center of the plaza. Thor had laughed good-humoredly at their gasps and stares, whispers of ‘ _the Prince!_ ’ and ‘ _The Lady Jane!_ ’ igniting around them. He wished them well at their play and gave one small girl a wink, who nearly collapsed with awe. Jane laughed and tugged him along.

Upon reaching the colorful tent, the shopkeeper came out to greet them, seeming overwhelmed but pleased that the Prince and his Lady should visit her stall. After exchanging greetings, the shopkeeper retreated to a respectful distance, polishing objects for display.

Thor began inspecting the commodities. “Look about,” he encouraged Jane. “Find something you would like.” 

There was a great deal to look at. It seemed this stall specialized in wooden objects, with everything from small toys to soup ladles displayed on every available surface. Improbable shelves towered to the top of the canvas ceiling, held together by what must be magic— the construction was too topsy-turvy to be otherwise. Jane walked slowly among the tables nearest her, which held an assortment of small wooden vehicles. Some were designs she recognized— like a pull-cart— and others foreign to her. She carefully wheeled one of the stranger vehicles back and forth. Moving on, she looked to a display of hnefatafl boards. Different colors of wood rippled through the pieces, with knots carved expertly to make the pieces seem as though they had leapt from a tree fully formed. She took a piece in her hand, turning it over to feel the weight, and set it back carefully.

Near the opening of the tent, Thor was rifling through wooden carved protective runes in a tray, the shopkeeper telling him their different uses. 

Jane ventured deeper into the tent. It was quieter here, canvas muffling the bustle of the market outside. Things were pressed closer together, with only small pathways between the towering shelves.

At the back of the tent were combs, stacked neatly in rows. Jane had often seen combs made of bone or antler gracing the lords and ladies in the courts of Valaskjálf, but never of wood. These were attractive-double sided combs, with their spines carved in intricate braids and runes. She selected one.

“Here is what I want,” she told Thor, returning to his side. He took it from her and admired it from several angles. 

“It will look lovely on you,” he said, tucking it into her hair with a tenderness that made Jane duck her head and blush. Thor stroked over her cheek with a smile as he withdrew his hand. “Woodswoman,” he said to the stall keeper, “how much for this trinket?”

“For you my lord? 40.”

“40!” gasped Thor, “This is worth 10 at the most!”

“Nay!” argued the woodcarver, “this is fine craftsmanship! See, there are no imperfections! Look to how your lady appears— it’s worth is magnified by her beauty.” 

“Ah,” said Thor, “But I already know of my Lady’s worth. The comb, however, is still worth only 10.”

“I will accept no less than 20.”

“15.”

“18.”

“16?”

“17. And that is my final offer.” The craftswoman crossed her arms over her chest self-importantly.

“Then 17 it is, my good woman! And many thanks to you!” Money was exchanged, and Jane and Thor walked on. 

“There, you see?” said Thor. 

“So what was the actual worth of the comb?” asked Jane. “How do you know if you got a good bargain? It seems that going from 40 to 17 was foolish on the lady’s part.”

“If this were in a non-bartering market or store in the city, I would say this would sell for about 20,” said Thor, taking the comb from her hair and inspecting it before tucking it back. 

“So she doubled it! Sneaky.”

“Mmm. It depends on the seller. Some begin at a more reasonable price, others hope to wear you down at the beginning with outrageous sums.”

“Ah. This seems complicated. Why not just have set prices for things?”

“For the thrill of the hunt!” grinned Thor. “And of course, for people with less to spend, bartering can be a good way to save coin. Many of these vendors are looking for things in return, and depend on the trades they make to sustain their livelihoods.”

“Oh, I see,” said Jane. “Here, let’s go into this tent.” 

Here was a stall of impressive beauty. The tent was made of a velvet-like material, all one color and immaculately kept. Gleaming metal shone from the display tables, jewelry of all sorts. Jane looked to a pegboard secured to the canvas wall, covered in necklaces. Asgardian jewelry was much thicker and heavier than she was used to seeing on Earth, and were usually covered with runes or gems. 

A lovely silver-gray necklace caught her eye— a rigid necklace designed to rest on the back of the neck and be open on the front— a torc, if she remembered the word correctly. This one was significantly smaller and more understated than the rest, with small beaded chains dripping from the open ends of the torc. This she paused at for a while, asking the merchant if she could take it down and try it on. 

With enthusiasm, the craftsman took it down himself and approached Jane deferrentially, at her nod settling the necklace on her. He swelled with pride. 

“It looks as though it was made for you,” he said. “Truly, my lady, you do it justice.” 

Jane turned to a mirror near the display board and turned this way and that, inspecting it. She quite liked it, but continued to peruse other jewelry in the hopes it wouldn’t betray how much she actually wanted the item, thereby driving the price up. Thor grinned at her, seeming to have caught on. Finally, she went back to him.

“What do you think of this?” she asked Thor.

“Hmm,” said Thor, placing one hand to her throat and the other to stroke his chin. “It looks quite similar to the other one you have.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” said Jane, though they both knew she had no jewelry comparable. “Do you think it’s sturdy enough? I’d hate to have the chains snap.”

The shopkeeper, who had been sidling closer and listening intently, jumped in to say his piece. 

“The beads and chains are attached most securely, my lady, and this piece is unique to others. I am certain it will shine among your collection.”

“Hmm,” said Jane, pretending to deliberate a bit more. “Yes, I suppose I like it. Thor?”

“Certainly. Craftsman, how much?”

“500, my lord.”

“ _Actually,_ ” whispered Thor to Jane, “ _that is an excellent price_. We’ll take it,” he said louder. The craftsman bustled over and the money was exchanged. Jane kept the necklace on as they left the tent.

“Well,” said Thor. “That was not a good example of bartering.”

“That’s all right,” said Jane. “I bet most of bartering is learned by doing, anyway. I’m excited to try my hand at it.”

Thor pulled two pouches from a pocket. He rattled a pouch before dropping it into her open palm. “See what you can garner with this,” he said. “I have an equal amount, and will do likewise. We will compare and see which bounty is greater!”

Jane laughed and wished him luck. Thor strode away, apparently with a destination in mind. Jane turned to wander further in the opposite direction. One tent, filled with sumptuous fabrics and clothing, caught her attention. She entered, and the craftsman stood attentively at her elbow, naming off prices and attributes of things she pointed at.

“What is this?” she asked, holding a lump of fabric with knitted strings covering it. The fabric shifted from red to green depending on the light, and the knitting was a pearlescent white. 

“It is a purse, my lady,” he said, opening his palm for her to tip the purse into it. He held it from certain knitted strings, and the weight of it pulled into a shape she recognized. It was a small cloth sack, encased in a knitted sling that acted as it’s handle. There was no opening. 

“But how do you get into it?” asked Jane, taking the purse back and inspecting it for some kind of clasp. 

“Here, you see? You pull these—” he tugged at the pucker of knitting at the top, “ — and the opening is revealed.” Interlaced between themselves, the knitting fell open once loosened. The inside of the bag was a soft material similar to velvet. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Jane, tugging the strings to shut it, and then pulling it open again. “That’s very clever.”

“No thieves shall take your coin while you use this!” he said proudly. “Loop it here at your belt, my lady,” he gestured, and she did so, attaching it to the decorative belt settled just below her ribcage. “And you will see, should a thief try to pluck it from your person—” he tugged at it, causing the bag to tighten further and yank on her belt, “ — your treasures will be safe!”

“Very nice,” Jane complimented, smiling. It made her laugh to see that sellers everywhere were the same, offering the customer take and wear their goods to improve their chances of making a sale. “Do you have this in other colors?” 

“Nay, my lady, only this one. The make of it is unique, and its materials rare. The thread is made from the spiders of a distant moon, stronger than most metals and very durable. The fabric has been dyed with special herbs that have protective properties, and stitched with runes of prosperity.”

“It’s lovely,” said Jane quietly, turning it over in her hand. The knitted threads seemed to sparkle in the sun. “I’ll take it,” she said decisively. “How much?”

“I’ll take 400,” he said. 

“No, 400 is too much,” replied Jane. “How do I know if it is effective? You ask too much trust. I do not know if you are stealing from my purse before I buy it!” 

He scowled, though his eyes twinkled and his voice was merry. “For you, my lady, I will change the price to fifty less than it’s worth,”

Jane said nothing, waiting. 

“300,” he said.

“200,” she returned.

“I will go no lower than 300!” he insisted, good naturedly planting his hands at his hips and glaring. 

“Well,” said Jane, pretending great reluctance as she unlooped it from her belt and placed it back on the table. “That is a shame. It seems I will have to look elsewhere.” She turned from him to go back out to the plaza.

“Wait,” he called. Jane schooled her smirk from her face as she turned back to him.

“200…” with a dramatic sigh he handed the purse to her. “It seems that your lovely face and clever words have softened my heart. 200 it shall be.” His eyes twinkled and Jane briefly suspected that perhaps he had agreed to her offer too quickly. Was she overpaying?

Still, she did like the purse, and if she assisted the craftsman by lining his pockets with gold, what was the harm? She counted the coins from her pouch into her hand, and tipped it into his palm, where they vanished into a hidden fold of his clothing. He grinned and handed her the purse. “Many thanks, my lady!” Jane returned the thanks and stepped back into the throng of market-goers, letting the crowd sweep her along until she saw another booth that caught her interest. This one held fabric wares, from baby clothes to tea towels. She saw another purse much like the one she had just purchased. Curious, she looked for a price. Her jaw dropped. 75! So the old swindler had cheated her! She grinned, laughing to herself. What a shrewd businessman. 

Her next few attempts at bartering did not go so well, with Jane caving at higher prices than she believed the item was worth. However, she was enjoying herself so much she didn’t care. One item she did walk away from— a small collection of jars holding different types of honeys, purported to have different attributes depending on the type of pollen the bees collected. The owner had asked a sum Jane felt was too high, but stubbornly refused to accept any other offer. Jane had thanked them for their time and left. 

By the end of her first loop around the plaza, she had purchased the purse, a book on herbs and their uses in specialized potions, a small pouch which held a game she was interested in learning, and a new belt. She had grown tired of bartering, content to take in the sights and sounds around her. Several times she was interrupted by small children giving her tokens of affection, a flower, a smooth stone, and a bit of dried tree sap. She enjoyed their awed excitement when meeting her, and made sure to ask after their families and schooling politely. When the sun was beginning to sink slightly in the sky, she took to a bench and rested, watching the crowd. 

Eventually she noticed Thor swaggering down the plaza, a very pleased expression on his face and a truly enormous sack slung over his shoulder. It bulged with its contents, several objects peeking from the mouth of the bag. He caught sight of her and moved towards her with a grin.

“Jane!” he boomed. “What is your bounty? What have you collected? I,” he said with great pride, pulling an exquisite journal of leather with metal detailing from his bag, “bartered for this and received it for only 50 and a short skirmish! And this,” he drew out an improbably large stone sculpture from the depths and set it with with a _thunk_ on the ground before her, “for only 175!” He came to sit beside her, swinging his bag to the ground with a sigh.

“That’s very impressive!” said Jane. “Good grief, did you leave anything at the booths for the vendors?” she teased, rifling through the contents of the bag. Thor had made it very clear to her, after her first few weeks of being afraid to touch his possessions without permission, that what was his was hers. She now felt very comfortable in handling his things, as he took such pride and pleasure in explaining their uses or aiding her in their purpose. 

“What did you get?” he asked. 

“Not as much as you,” she said, pulling her few items out from her pockets and unlooping the purse from her belt. “I haven’t spent everything. I’m not familiar with most of the objects here, and thought I’d save the rest for some food anyway.”

Thor grunted affirmatively and looked over her small treasures. “A very good start, to be sure.” He took the belt and inspected it. “Very nice! You have an eye for metalwork.”

“Thanks!” said Jane. “I already have a dress in mind to wear with it.”

Thor chuckled. “And what is this?” he asked, holding up the purse with a puzzled expression. 

“It’s a purse,” said Jane, taking it from him and holding it the right way up. “You open by loosening the knitting at the top of the bag. It’s weaved so it tightens if someone tries to grab it. The shopkeeper said that it was made from special materials, as well.”

Thor made an interested noise. “When we return to the palace, you could inquire about getting a mage to enlarge the interior. There are enchantments that would allow you to carry much more than the physical shape might allow.”

“Like your bag?” Jane asked, toeing at his massive sack. “There’s no way that statue fit in there.”

“And likely no way it will fit again,” he lamented. “It took some shoving to get it in there the first time, I tell you.”

Jane laughed, imagining Thor struggling to cram the statue in, his arm up to the elbow in the bag and his face exerted with effort. 

“How much did you pay for it?” Thor asked, still examining the purse.

“... I got it for half his original asking price,” she hedged. 

“And what price was that?”

“Possibly higher than was warranted for the item,” she said, smiling. 

“Haha! So a vendor got the best of you, eh? Well, it was your first time.”

“Mm-hm. I wonder if I could get a better deal if I went back, though…”

“You wish to renegotiate the original price you paid? I do not think that is done.” 

“No, no, as in, go back and purchase another thing for less because I already paid for part of it with the price of the purse.”

“How much _did_ you pay?”

“More than other things like it were priced.”

“Well then, it is worth a try.”

\---  
  


“Hello again,” Jane said, sidling back into the booth where she had purchased the purse. “I’ve come to look at your wares again.”

“Go ahead!” offered the shopkeeper with a flourish of his arm. “Everything is here for your perusal. Well met, Prince Thor.” He bowed with a fist over his chest.

“Well met,” replied Thor. 

Jane went to some cloaks that had caught her eye last she was at the stall. A silky, sky-blue hooded cape with cheerful flower detailing at the hem was her target. She was glad it had not been sold already. 

“How much for this?” she asked, fingering the soft material.

“That, lady? 300.”

“I see. Then with the down payment I made with the purse, that would be..” she pretended to count off her fingers. “...175? Taking into account inflation, of course, I think it would be more like 125. And I think, for penance of taking advantage, I would knock off that extra 25 to make it an even 100.”

The shopkeeper gave a rueful little smirk, aware he had been caught. “A down payment? You found the price of the purse to be overestimated?”

“I found the price of the purse to be a perfect down payment for this cloak,” she corrected. “Surely you did not think me so gullible?”

“No, lady,” said the shopkeeper, grinning outright now. “All in Asgard speak of your cleverness. So, 100 then?”

“...No,” mused Jane, feigning indifferent haughtiness. “I think I’ll take it for... 75.”

Here the shopkeeper’s eyes bulged, realizing he had stumbled into allowing her to pay the proper price of the purse. “75?” he gasped.

“No, you’re right, that’s still too much. 50 will do.”

“50!”

“Alright, alright, 25. But that’s my final offer,” she warned, fighting to keep from smiling and her eyes twinkling with impishness. 

Mouth open, hands slightly outstretched, the shopkeeper goggled at her for a moment before tossing his head back and laughing. “25! 25, and a wonderful story of my comeuppance I will be telling at the tavern tonight! You are a delight to bargain with, my lady. I will sell it for 25.”

“That’s more like it,” Jane grinned, and handed him the money.

“Well done!” congratulated Thor after they had left the stall. “That was some shrewd bargaining!”

Jane laughed, thrilled with her new purchase and filled with joy from the whole day’s adventure. “I’m shocked he let me have it for the 25, honestly! Though technically,” she mused, “I paid him 225 total. So that’s a bit more reasonable for both items.”

“Many of these bartering vendors appreciate wit and cleverness above all else, and love a good tale of shrewd haggling. He would not have sold it, were he not amenable to the price,” he reassured her. “So how much did he try to sell it to you before?”

“He asked for 400, initially.”

“Four hundre— really, that is theft!” exclaimed Thor.

“I got him to take it down to 200, but then at the next stall saw that a similar purse was only priced 75.”

Thor laughed. “Ah, hence your reasoning that you already paid 125 of the total price of the cloak. So that got your mind working on how to get your own back. I like it. Are you satisfied with your retribution?”

“Immensely,” Jane grinned. “I really like this cloak.” She stroked it, and Thor slung his huge arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side affectionately. 

“I, too, am satisfied with my purchases,” he said. “Now for our next bartering task… food!” 

Jane laughed, and they walked off arm in arm.


End file.
